Bound and helpless, Jack could only look to the heavens for salvation. But the merciless sun stared blankly back at him, while in the distance dark clouds gathered over the sea as if heralding the tragedy to come.
Encircling the five stakes, a growing pile of wood was dumped at their feet. Their execution had been publicly proclaimed throughout Nagasaki and the local inhabitants instructed to bring their own contributions to the fire. By the early afternoon, the pyre was knee-deep and a vast crowd had gathered on the quayside – merchants, samurai, farmers, monks, and even families with children. A burning at the stake promised to be quite a spectacle and no one wanted to miss it.
‘Please forgive me for getting you into this mess,’ Jack begged his friends. ‘I never imagined it would end this way.’
‘A samurai is born to die, Jack,’ replied Saburo, bravely holding his head high, despite the tremble in his voice.
‘I suppose it’s better to burn out than to fade away!’ jested Benkei, forcing a smile. But this quickly disappeared as another bundle of wood was stacked against him.
Yori craned his head to look at Jack. ‘There’s always more beyond the horizon than you can see. This is not the end.’ He turned to the others, trying his best to offer them spiritual reassurance. ‘Sensei Yamada once told me, Don’t be afraid of death, be afraid of a life unlived.’
Meeting Jack’s eyes, Akiko whispered, ‘If I only live one life and die by your side, then it’s been a life worth living.’
Jack didn’t know what to say to this. Yet again his friends astounded him by their courage and loyalty. But just looking at Akiko made his heart burst. He didn’t want her to die – or any of his friends. Not when they had so much still to live for.
‘Forever bound to one another,’ he declared, desperately wanting to reach out to Akiko.
A single tear rolled down her cheek. ‘Forever …’
The bugyō stepped forward and announced to the crowd, ‘The Shogun, supreme ruler of all Japan, commands that these traitors are punished for their crimes and burned alive!’
A chorus of approval accompanied his declaration. Jack felt an uncontrollable shudder of fear as the executioner lit his torch and approached. The crowd’s excitement grew to fever pitch. Men jeered and threw stones. Women heckled their disgust at such treachery. Kids watched wide-eyed in anticipation. Jack couldn’t believe their suffering would bring such entertainment to the masses.
But, as Jack scanned the crowd, he saw that a number stood silent and grave-faced. Some mothers had covered their children’s eyes and refused themselves to watch. A group of monks in straw hats had their heads bowed in mournful respect. Then Jack recognized Takumi and the four farmers among the throng. Tears streamed down their faces as they silently mouthed a prayer for Jack and his friends’ souls. Jack realized not everyone craved their deaths and drew some comfort from this.
However, his solace was short-lived as he spotted another face in the crowd – one he’d hoped never to see again. Pale and full of spite, Kazuki pushed his way to the front, a blood-soaked bandage wrapped around his waist. He took up prime position before Jack’s stake.
‘You’re going to burn, gaijin!’ he cried. ‘BURN IN HELL!’
64
The Messenger
The crowd fell silent as the executioner held the torch over the pyre, awaiting the bugyō’s command to set the traitors ablaze. Not wanting his last moments to be consumed with his rival’s gloating face, Jack turned to Akiko. She held his gaze, her eyes no longer brimming with tears but with love and friendship. In those final dying seconds, Jack felt a moment of peace.
The bugyō drew in a breath to issue his command. A startled cry from the back of the crowd distracted him as a horse thundered on to the quayside, scattering people aside. The Shogun’s samurai parted for it to gallop into the centre of the arena and a cloaked messenger leapt from its back.
‘STOP!’ he bellowed at the executioner.
‘What is the meaning of this?’ demanded the bugyō, striding towards him.
The messenger presented the magistrate with a scroll bearing the formal seal of the Shogun. The bugyō snatched it from his grasp and broke the wax seal.
The baying crowd had become deathly quiet. Only the lapping of the waves and the crackle of the burning torch could be heard. Jack and his friends waited with bated breath, their lives hanging in the balance.
The bugyō looked up, stunned.
In a dry voice, he declared, ‘With great sorrow and regret, I must inform you that Shogun Kamakura, our supreme leader, the Light of the East, passed away at the Hour of Serpent, on the fourth day of the seventh month of the Year of the Rabbit.’
A collective gasp rose from the gathered crowd.
‘Our Shogun is dead!’ wailed a woman, collapsing to the ground in grief.
The whole quayside now fell to its knees, the crowd prostrating themselves as they mourned their deceased leader. The former Shogun’s samurai laid down their swords and bowed their heads in deep respect.
Jack was equally shocked by the news and looked to his friends, wondering what this would mean for them. The executioner still held the burning torch over the pyre.
The bugyō continued. ‘All power now lies with the Council. And in their esteemed judgement they’ve appointed daimyo Takatomi to be Regent of all Japan until the Shogun’s heir, Hidetada, comes of age and takes his rightful place as our ruler.’
While the crowd still lamented their great loss, Jack and his friends found cause to smile – and even entertain hope of salvation. Daimyo Takatomi was the former lord of Kyoto, master and friend of Masamoto Takeshi, and benefactor of their old samurai school, the Niten Ichi Ryū. Jack had even saved his daughter’s life, Emi, during the Battle of Osaka Castle. The new ruler of Japan was their ally. The question was whether he had the authority to overrule the exile of foreigners and Christians. More importantly, would his influence stretch to protecting their lives in their hour of need?
The bugyō scrutinized the scroll once more, its parchment fluttering in the stiffening onshore breeze. He appeared unable to believe what he was reading. ‘The Regent’s first act in office is to … pardon the following individuals of all crimes: the foreign samurai Jack Fletcher … Akiko Dāte … Yori …’ He trailed off, dismissively waving the scroll in the direction of the staked prisoners. ‘Free them. Free them all.’
Jack and his friends were as astounded as the Shogun’s samurai were dismayed at their last-second reprieve.
Benkei whooped loudly. ‘If I didn’t have my legs bound, Jack, I’d dance a jig!’ he laughed.
Saburo hung his head and let out a huge sigh of relief.
‘I’ve never prayed so hard,’ sobbed Yori, ‘or been so grateful to the gods.’
Jack beamed at Akiko. Life seeming more precious than ever, he vowed to cherish every moment with her.
‘We live to fight another day,’ she said, blinking away tears of joy.
Jack nodded. But there would be no need for more fighting. They were no longer fugitives. And he was free to go home.
‘NO!’ shouted Kazuki, breaking through the line of mourning samurai. ‘They’re traitors!’
Limping over, Kazuki seized the flaming torch out of the executioner’s hand. And, before anyone could stop him, he tossed it on to the pyre.
65
The Ring of Sky
The bone-dry tinder caught immediately. Crackling and popping, the fire spread its tendrils through the piles of wood like spitting snakes. Fanned by the strengthening sea breeze, the flames rushed to engulf Jack and his friends in a hellish blaze.
Kazuki laughed as they struggled against their bonds. ‘Squirm, gaijin, squirm all you like!’
Benkei desperately blew at the approaching fire. Saburo wiggled his feet to shift the bundles of wood away from him. Akiko tried to prise open her knots. Yori began praying again, while Jack slammed his body into the stake, attempting to loosen it from the ground. But the Shogun’s samurai had do
ne their job too well. Their efforts to free themselves proved futile.
Takumi and the farmers in the crowd started screaming for the samurai to save the pardoned prisoners. But none made a move, either too afraid to approach the deadly blaze or secretly pleased to see the fugitives burn.
Kazuki was to have his revenge after all.
Jack bowed his head in defeat. Only a miracle could save them now. For some strange reason, Shiryu’s kanji poem popped into his thoughts:
If we always look at the earth,
we do not see the sky.
Jack looked up. Above the bay the clouds had gathered and grown darker. ‘With true mastery of the Ring of Sky,’ the Grandmaster had once told him, ‘a ninja can even control the elements of nature itself.’ Jack had been witness to just such a miracle. But could he encourage a storm like the one Zenjubo had invoked in the mist of the Iga mountains?
At this time, anything was worth a try. Despite his hands being bound behind his back, Jack spread out his fingers, the index and thumbs touching, and feverishly uttered the mantra for Zai: ‘On chirichi iba rotaya sowaka …’
He focused his mind on the clouds, becoming one with the sky and beckoning the storm on. The heat around him rose and the crackle of flaming wood filled his ears. He risked a glance. The fire was raging towards his feet. But the clouds definitely seemed to be drawing closer … or was it his imagination?
Jack concentrated harder, the mantra tumbling from his lips in an unending chant. He looked up again. But this time, the clouds appeared no nearer. He realized then he was just fooling himself, sheer desperation making him believe the impossible was possible. He was no ninja Grandmaster. No god. He couldn’t bend the elements to his will.
The fire encircled him and his friends entirely, the blasts of heat so intense that all oxygen was seemingly sucked from the air. Jack could only gasp in scorching lungfuls of smoke and ash as the failed mantra died on his lips. Coughing and spluttering, he felt the first of the flames lick at his feet, searing his flesh. At the same time he heard Yori scream as the fire burned him too.
Then a crack of thunder split the sky and all of a sudden the heavens opened. A tropical storm broke over Nagasaki in one torrential downpour. The fire spat angrily as the flood of rain doused the flames, killing the blaze within seconds.
‘Talk about the luck of the gods!’ cried Benkei, shaking his sodden mass of hair in joy.
The others began laughing too, their tears of relief mixing with the welcome rain.
Jack lifted his face to the billowing sky, relishing the cool drops of water as they washed over him. Soaked to the skin, he felt reborn.
Was it pure luck the rain had fallen? Or had he really harnessed the Ring of Sky?
Such an idea seemed too great to believe. A miracle.
Then through the deluge his eye was caught by the group of praying monks in the crowd. Each of them had their hands spread out in front, just the thumb and index finger touching. And above the patter of rain, Jack heard a familiar incantation, ‘On chirichi iba rotaya sowaka …’ The lead monk glanced up from beneath his straw dome hat, seemingly aware Jack was looking in his direction. Clasping his hands together, the monk entwined his middle fingers, then extended both thumbs and little fingers into a V shape. Jack blinked in surprise. But, when he looked again, the monk and his fellow brothers had vanished among the crowd.
Yet Jack was certain of what he’d seen – the Dragon Seal. The secret hand sign of the ninja. Now Jack knew, beyond a doubt, the rainstorm had nothing to do with chance.
The Ring of Sky had saved them.
Thwarted from roasting Jack and his friends alive, Kazuki gave a great howl of fury. He drew his katana and limped forward to run Jack through with the blade.
‘Now you’ll feel the edge of my steel,’ Kazuki growled, aiming for Jack’s stomach.
Still bound to the stake, Jack was powerless to avoid his rival’s vicious attack. But the cloaked messenger leapt between them before Kazuki could make his thrust.
‘Get out of my way!’ snapped Kazuki, his face twisted in rage.
The messenger held his ground.
‘I’ll run you through as well.’
‘Will you?’ questioned the messenger, pulling back his hood to reveal the shaved head of a man in his late forties. He had a small trimmed beard and amber eyes that demanded total respect. But his most distinguishing feature was the crimson scarring that marked the left-hand side of his face.
66
Bon Festival
‘Masamoto-sama!’ gasped Jack, stunned by his guardian’s miraculous appearance.
His friends stared in equal disbelief. None of them had believed they’d ever see their old swordmaster again.
Kazuki somehow stood his ground, but his katana visibly trembled in his hand. ‘You were exiled! You’ve no power here. Whereas I’m an ōmetsuke of the Shogun. Stand aside.’
‘Lay down your sword, Kazuki,’ ordered Masamoto, flicking back his rider’s cloak to reveal the black silk handles of his daishō.
Kazuki tensed. Jack could see his rival summoning up the strength – and possibly the courage – to attack. Masamoto remained motionless, his right hand relaxed by his side. The swordmaster’s unwavering calm in the face of such a threat to his life was unsettling. He merely stared at Kazuki, daring his ex-student to strike.
But even in his arrogance and anger Kazuki recognized the futility of duelling the founder of the Two Heavens. He dropped his sword, the steel clattering on the quayside.
Masamoto took a step towards him. ‘By virtue of the power invested in me by Takatomi-sama, the Regent of Japan, I hereby strip you, Oda Kazuki, of all samurai status.’
He seized both of Kazuki’s swords and ripped the sun mon from his kimono before throwing it on to the smouldering fire.
‘Arrest this traitor,’ Masamoto commanded the bugyō.
The magistrate, clearly aware of the swordmaster’s reputation, immediately ordered four of the samurai guards to apprehend Kazuki.
With the Oda family name so publicly dishonoured, Kazuki hung his head in shame as he was shackled and led away to a life in prison. Staring morosely at the ground, he never even glanced once in Jack’s direction. Jack realized his rival’s spirit was truly broken. Kazuki would never pose a threat again – not to him and, more importantly, not to Akiko.
Jack walked openly and freely through the streets of Nagasaki. He had nothing to fear with his guardian by his side. Three days had passed since Masamoto had averted their execution and in that time Nagasaki had been transformed into a boisterous celebration. The inhabitants were marking the annual Bon Festival – a Buddhist custom honouring the spirits of their ancestors. Yori had explained that the Japanese believed the spirit lives on after the death of the body, returning periodically from the mountains and other sacred places to the land of the living. To welcome the spirits back, Nagasaki was traditionally decorated with pennants and flickering candles. The narrow alleys were filled with colourful paper lanterns hanging overhead, and the townsfolk spilt into the streets, visiting temples and burial sites on the hills to invite their ancestors to come and eat with them. All over the port, people chatted, drank and ate with imaginary spectres. Fireworks lit up the night sky and music and dancing filled the harbour.
‘I hear you’ve learnt a new trick or two with your swords,’ remarked Masamoto as the two of them made their way through the partying crowd. ‘A reverse grip?’
By the tone of his voice, Jack wasn’t certain whether his guardian approved of him modifying the Two Heavens. Bowing respectfully, he held out his hand to show the missing fingertip.
‘I was forced to make a few changes to my technique,’ Jack explained in his defence.
Masamoto smiled, a rare occurrence as only one side of his face reacted to the expression. ‘You must teach me the grip,’ he said.
Jack’s jaw dropped open at the suggestion. What could he teach the greatest swordsman in Japan about combat?
; Noting Jack’s stunned expression, Masamoto continued, ‘No sensei ever stops being a student, Jack-kun. If a sword style doesn’t evolve, then it becomes redundant and dies. As you know, the essence of the Two Heavens is the spirit of winning. And in order to accomplish this, the style must constantly adapt and overcome each and every situation.’ He glanced at Jack’s injured hand. ‘Which I see you have done. Sensei Kyuzo sends his apologies for his grave mistake in carrying out yubitsume.’
Jack studied his little finger. ‘It’s a little late for apologies,’ he replied.
‘It’s a bit late for many things,’ said Masamoto with a heavy sigh. ‘The past is behind us, so we must learn from it. And Sensei Kyuzo won’t ever make such a misjudgement again. He’s committed seppuku.’
Jack turned to his guardian in shock. He knew the two were firm friends and saw a deep seam of sadness in Masamoto’s eyes. ‘But why?’
‘Out of shame for his actions.’
Jack suddenly felt a wave of guilt. He was the reason Sensei Kyuzo had killed himself. Although he understood that such an act of ritual suicide by a samurai was considered to wipe away all previous transgressions and restore their honour, it didn’t make him feel any better.
‘I’m sorry …’
‘Why should you be?’ said Masamoto firmly. ‘He volunteered. It was the right thing to do.’
Jack bowed his head in respect. ‘Then I accept his apology and will remember Sensei Kyuzo for his courage in the Battle of Osaka Castle.’
Masamoto nodded with approval. ‘I’m proud to call you my son, Jack-kun. At the Niten Ichi Ryū, I taught you all you need to live this life. And you’ve proven you can apply those skills not only for your own sake, but for the benefit of others too. Bushido is in your blood. You are a true samurai.’
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Young Samurai: The Ring of Sky Page 25
